I Will Remember You
by Tarafina
Summary: "I don't want to leave here remembered as the freak or the loser... I want to be remembered for my talent..."


**Title**: I Will Remember You (Better Than Anyone Else)  
><strong>Category<strong>: Glee  
><strong>Genre<strong>: Angst/Romance  
><strong>Ship<strong>: Puck/Rachel  
><strong>Rating<strong>: Teen  
><strong>Prompt<strong>: Picture by feldhockey9 - puckrachel drabble meme (part 8)  
><strong>Word Count<strong>: 891  
><strong>Summary<strong>: "I don't want to leave here remembered as the _freak_ or the _loser_... I want to be remembered for my _talent_..."

_**I Will Remember You (Better Than Anyone Else)**_  
>-11-

The thing is, she knows she's being neurotic. She knows she's over-thinking everything; that she's pushing the club to work too hard. But she _wants_ this; _desperately_. This is her last year with the club, and damn it, they _deserve_ a National title! She doesn't care how hard the other clubs have worked; none have gone through the trials and tribulations that New Directions have.

So she pushes them harder. Dance better. Sing louder. Smile brighter. She feels like a dictator and she knows she looks it. But when they have that title under their belt, that trophy in their case, she can leave McKinley with a different legacy than that of the Slushee Facial Loser she had before. She would be the leader of the National Show Choir Winning Glee Club. If she could leave McKinley with that _one _triumph, maybe it would all be worth it...

But then the others are exhausted and Santana's shouting at/threatening her in Spanish and they're packing their things and leaving her behind on a lit stage, panting and sweating and begging them for just one more hour of rehearsal. Before long, she's alone, she's frustrated, and she's a little bit angry that they don't understand how important this all is.

"We've got two more weeks, Rach," Noah's voice interrupts her inner-diatribe.

Her head lifts and she searches the dark auditorium for him.

He steps out of the shadows, his gym bag over his shoulder, wearing a black tank top that shows off his lovely arms. He rid himself of his plaid button-up three hours ago when he too was starting to sweat from rehearsal. She can't say the sight isn't welcome.

"Yes, and I think we all remember just how _proactive_ this club is, Noah..." She sighs, crossing the floor of the stage to plop down on the edge, letting her legs dangle over. "Last year, we wrote our songs and worked out choreography _days _before the competition..." She shakes her head incredulously. "Why were we surprised we lost?"

He makes his way over with that natural, confident swagger of his, and drops a hand to either side of her, while he stares up at her in that knowing way of his, a brow cocked. "Rach... This isn't last year... We've worked our _asses_ off for this..." He half-grinned. "We're gonna make New York our bitch!"

She laughs, unable to help a smile, but it deflates quickly. "This is our _last_ chance..."

He frowns. "Ours or _yours_?"

She looks away, surprised for only a second that he's read her so well. But then, it's Noah, and he's always had an uncanny ability to know what's going on with her better than most. "I don't want to leave here remembered as the _freak_ or the _loser_..." She turns back to him sadly. "I want to be remembered for my _talent_..."

He shakes his head. "Rach... It doesn't matter what you do... People are gonna make up their own opinions." He shrugs. "If they think you're a freak, winning Nationals isn't going to change that..."

Her face falls rapidly.

"But what the hell do any of them know?" He lifts his brows at her for emphasis. "Me and you know the truth... You're no freak!"

"I'm not?" she asks, just a little hesitant to believe him. Because as long as she's kept up her shield of 'I'll be somebody someday,' she can't help but let some of those consistent comments about how awful she is sink in just a little.

"No way, babe..." He grins at her. "You're Rachel Berry..." He reaches for her, finger crooked to give the underside of her chin a little affectionate chuck. "You're a star."

Her throat hollows out with emotion, at appreciation for this boy who's come to change so much in the time she's known him. Eyes shining with tears, she laughs a little breathlessly. "I am," she agrees, nodding.

"S'right..." He nods, takes a step back, and then holds a hand out for her. "You need a ride home?"

Smiling brightly, she takes his hand in hers and hops down off the stage. She follows him up the aisle, their hands still clasped together, and she feels a skittering in her heart that makes her whole body shiver with awareness.

Taking a deep breath, she jumps in head-first, as she's prone to do, though the results have been mixed in the past. Looking up him, she says in a clear, precise voice, "Since the club will most likely enjoy a couple days off, and I'm sure I could use a few myself, how would you like to spend some time with a star?"

He smirks at her. "Sure... But for every pop song you wanna sing, I get to pick a class rock song..." He raises a brow before she can argue and adds, "And for every musical, I get a violent action movie..."

She stares at him a long moment, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You have yourself a deal, Mr. Puckerman."

With a nod, he holds open the door leading out of the auditorium and lets her through first. Joining her at his side, he holds out an arm for her to take this time, and she wraps hers in his with the hopeful thought that she might be doing this for a long time to come.

[**End.**]


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